in the quiet of the aftermath
by Cath1
Summary: They all have nightmares. Post series 8 type place. Some H/R.


in the quiet of the aftermath

Summary: They all have nightmares. Post series 8 type place. Some H/R.

Disclaimer: Surprisingly, the characters are no more mine than they were last time.

Notes: A huge thanks to those who reviewed my last fic – v much glad that it wasn't too clichéd for you! And thanks to those who asked about the move – all went well and now just crazy busy settling in, driving back and forth to IKEA, and working, since the rest of my team appears to have gone on maternity leave all at once.

Anyway – about the fic. Have wanted to write a Ruth/Ros type interaction piece for a while then this came into my head. Hopefully it works. Reviews are always gratefully received.

XxX

_drinks at two_

_Ruth, Ros_

The world is blanketed in cool darkness, offering no picturesque view of the night sky from the hotel's conservatory. Ruth has been sat there a while now, ever since she gave up on the concept of sleep. Or since it gave up on her. She's stopped lamenting the fact that she didn't bring a book with her, instead allowing time to pass in silent contemplation.

She hears the footsteps echo on the conservatory floor before she sees the reflection of Ros in the glass walls; a ghostly apparition of pale blonde hair and pale skin, lit only by a table lamp.

"Thought I might find you here," is Ros' opening line as she sits on the wicker chair. It creaks briefly, even with her light weight, before settling.

"It's two am," Ruth responds. "You didn't think I'd be asleep?"

Ros gives a brief, knowing smile as Ruth looks over, and punctuates it with an exhalation of air that has definite overtones of a derisive laugh.

"Do you want a drink?" is all she says. Ruth notes the bottle of champagne Ros has brought. Two plastic cups she recognises as standard hotel bathroom stock stand poised against the bottle in sharp discord to its obvious expense. "Courtesy of our delightful summit attendees," Ros comments in response to Ruth's questioning look; it doesn't really explain the origin of the champagne, but Ruth doesn't really care. She could do with a drink. She gives a brief nod in response to Ros' question. Ros fills the cup to near capacity, hands it over before filling her own. "Cheers," she comments wryly, holding her cup up for Ruth to toast.

It's vaguely odd that Ros had been prepared with two cups, almost as if this meeting had been planned, Ruth thinks absent-mindedly as she takes a sip of the champagne. She wonders briefly if she were the intended drinking companion. But then, Ros didn't seem surprised to see her; maybe she was.

They sit in silence, drinking champagne, looking out to the darkness. Ruth with her feet tucked up on the chair, Ros, lounging with a usual sense of elegance. Ruth watches her discreetly.

They have few things in common, but it appears that insomnia is one exception; Ruth recognises the dark-rimmed, sleep deprived, haunted look in Ros' features. The nightmares affect her too. It's been worse since the Home Secretary died and Ros somehow miraculously survived. Or maybe it's still about Jo. Either way, Ruth recognises the look; she's seen it on herself.

They drink one glass in almost silence, followed by another, before Ros breaks the silence.

"Do you ever think what it would be like if MI5 hadn't interfered and fucked up your life?" If the question startles Ruth, she has the sense not to show it.

Ros has been more contemplative, more bitter lately, more so since she returned to work following her recovery from the explosion. Ruth doesn't think there was anything going on between her and Home Secretary but maybe there was. Or maybe it was just the seeds of a possibility. She wonders if maybe Ros is just pissed off with how life has turned out; any possible happiness torn from her in the blink of an eye.

She can empathise.

"Every night," Ruth admits eventually. She doesn't admit that sometimes, the thoughts are not entirely negative. That sometimes, she's glad she's returned. But then, she's barely begun to admit it to herself.

Alcohol courses through her veins. She's so tired. She wishes that the alcohol would carry her off into uninterrupted sleep. But she knows that it won't. There's no reason, just a merry go round of images that assault her when she tries to close her eyes. And the subsequent nightmares.

"At least you're not alone," Ros comments, sipping on the alcohol. It's a comment that surprises Ruth; she doesn't expect such vulnerability, such emotional openness from Ros.

"That's a matter of opinion," Ruth responds. Is alone avoiding returning home to an empty waiting room of a flat when she can be surrounded by people at work? Is alone having no plans in an evening beyond anything offered in the RadioTimes or singing one evening a week, even if she is in love with someone? She suspects that it is.

"I'd say something trite like only you can control your own happiness, but we both know that's a load of bollocks," Ros notes with a wry grin. Ros would know. She's loved and lost enough to know.

They've _both_ loved and lost enough to know.

Ruth says nothing in response to this, she doesn't need to.

They sit there in silence, neither talking, neither discussing the bloody blatant pink elephant in the middle of the room and their reason for drinking at 2am. After a while, Ros refills both cups, but the silence continues.

They all have nightmares. They just don't talk about them.

---

_bang bang, you're dead_

_Tariq_

He wakes up to the second bang. Alert, disorientated, his heart thumps loudly in fear. He sits up, looks around and tries to identify the origin of the noise.

But he knows he won't find it.

And yet, the sound is so real that it's difficult to believe that it only emanates from his dream.

Bang. The sound resonates in his head. Bang. His mind takes him back to a car with Lucas and listening to a young man get shot so that they could save the life of another. Shot directly as a result of his actions.

"He was going to kill innocent people," dream-Lucas says.

Bang.

He lies back down, awake, shaking, alone.

He wishes the nightmare would stop.

---

_fools in love_

_Lucas_

He no longer has to close his eyes to see her face. It haunts his waking hours in almost equal measure to those spent in disturbed sleep.

He works harder, longer, wears himself out with activity and distraction. And still, all he can see in the interim moments of rest are images of _her_. Eyes closed as if in peaceful slumber, until his gaze trails just slightly upward to see the hole in her forehead. And then there is no fooling himself. She is gone. The traitor killed by another.

If it were anyone else, his concern would only be for the lost intelligence caused by her death; a missing link they would have to track down some other way.

But despite all that she was, he can't help but feel so... _lost_.

Her death affects him more deeply than he wants to admit.

And he wonders why he had to fall in love with her.

---

_beginnings and continuations_

_Harry, Ruth_

It's three o'clock when Ruth heads back towards her room. The alcohol has made her feel relaxed, but she's not drunk. She walks past Harry's hotel room door, then pauses. She contemplates knocking, and then has a moment of indecision.

She doesn't know the impetus for her eventual action. Maybe it's because of her conversation with Ros; a realisation that happiness or loneliness really is her own choice, that maybe finally, after all the loss, they both deserve something more than pain. Or maybe it's just a natural progression of a relationship, something which they've been moving towards for years.

But regardless of what it is, something causes her to knock tentatively on Harry's door.

She's not sure if she's surprised when he answers, fully dressed, obviously alert and awake. She doesn't wonder why.

"Ruth?" he asks, obviously startled by her appearance at his door at 3am.

"I think we should go for that drink," she says resolutely. "Or maybe we could do dinner?"

"Now?" he questions, confused, looking at his watch.

"Tomorrow. Next week. I just... wanted to make sure that we did."

"I could get my diary?" he replies, amused, teasing.

"You'll remember tomorrow," she tells him with equal amount of amusement.

He smiles. "Yes, I will."

"Okay then." She turns and starts to leave. And then, turns back round, smiles widely. "Goodnight Harry," she says.

"Goodnight Ruth," he responds. His smile matches hers.

He closes the door only as she nears her own room.

It doesn't take her long to prepare for bed. Somehow, she falls asleep almost instantly.

And for once, the nightmares stop.

XxX

Fini


End file.
